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  1. Earlier
  2. Kit


    and things and things and things
  3. Daren slightly shrank in at Hasan's snarling and murmured another apology because he didn't know what had happened and he certainly hadn't meant to upset Kassander so much, he'd only done what he was asked to do. ... And apparently it had been a really bad idea. But Hasan didn't strike out, instead he demanded to know what had happened and then turned his attention to the blond to try and calm him down. Daren considered the best way to word things for a moment and then realized the absolute truth was the best, even if it didn't really answer much of anything. ... At least, to Daren it didn't. Maybe Hasan would make more sense of it than he had. It wasn't as if he didn't know Kassander better than Daren himself. "He asked me to glamour into the daeva who is playing hamadaeva up there." Daren began carefully. "So I did, and then he said something about Marcus and started to freak out. I dropped the glamour immediately but the damage was already done." Apparently. But that was what had happened, in essence. It wasn't a lot, and he certainly wasn't going to glamour back into the guy while Kassander was still having a melt down, but he did hope it was enough for Hasan to make at least a little sense of it. Maybe it would even help him calm Kassander down. In the mean time, Daren was going to stay back here, and not make any sudden movements.
  4. That wasn't generally the sort of entrance Tristan expected from Hasan. Then, the hissing and Apollo's clicking answered the unspoken question, and Tristan decided to let that one go. Unfortunately, that was a whole lot of blood, and Sandalio hadn't had sustenance in 20 some odd years... no wonder he backed up. The only bright side to this was that technically, Sandalio was likely weak enough Hasan could defend himself just fine, but that really wasn't the point. "I'll go get the bloodwine," he said. "Just... stay here I guess." Apollo could handle whatever was outside, and Delara could handle the damage to Hasan's wing, and Tristan was going to go retrieve the bloodwine... probably several bottles because he kind of had a feeling that just one wasn't going to cut it, and that made sense. It was nice to be home, back around the scents of the Drago, but apparently something had gone wrong in their absence. Well that made sense; lots of things went wrong in their absence. He just hoped nothing serious had gone wrong. Then again, he figured if anything had, Hasan would've found them instead of the other way around. Anyway, he shuffled around the others and headed down the hall. One good thing about being an entire massive complex full of vampires, there was bloodwine literally everywhere.
  5. He intended to find something else to occupy himself with. There were always a thousand things to be done in the Drago di Napoli at any given moment, and Hasan could easily find one of them. Certainly, with half the alphas gone, it wasn't difficult, because they were even more backed up than usual. Somewhere between stalking out into the hall, and reaching the staircase, though, he felt the little Kassander blip in his head flicker in shock, and then straight up panic. Instinct kicked in. Immediately, he turned right back around, shoving the door back out of his way and putting himself in between Kassander and Daren, wings unfurling defensively, and then logic kicked in. His expression probably went from unbridled annoyance and perhaps a touch of snarling to confusion to concern in the span of a heartbeat or two. This was Daren. He did trust him, and so did Kassander. "What happened?" he demanded, instead, tucking his wings back against his body and turning around to kneel in front of Kassander. "Hey, breathe, it's okay," he murmured, gathering the smaller blond in his arms and rocking slightly. "You're safe here." He was having a panic attack and Hasan couldn't for the life of him figure out why, but then he supposed it didn't matter much, not right this second. His first concern was calming Kassander down, because if he freaked out too much, he'd expend more energy than he could afford to lose about now. [ that took an eon im sorry ]
  6. He thought he had nothing left to lose. "I heard a voice that I did not know yet," He placed his hand on his own heart, "I knew here. She told me that our kind were broken, tortured, torn from our grace, mutilated so much that even our children will forever be marked by our suffering. My ancestors were taken and refused to give any pardon or sway. They were cursed with potions, images," He said, growled in frustration and a raging feeling of helplessness. The voice was silent in his mind. "We changed. Morphed... forever spoiled and doomed to do to others what happened to us."
  7. Kit

    A Druid and an Orc

    "What was the dream?" Maddox had listened to the tale with his head tilted. He navigated the uneven ground with ease, the littered earth being floors far more familiar to him than the civilised grounds of paved roads and packed earth. Above them against the sombre sky were birds. They cried and wheeled, conducting their own business of food and territory. "That it would change you from something typical to something atypical?"
  8. He had seen handshakes before. It was a strange gesture. The orc was careful not to dig his claws into Maddox's hand. Once he removed his hand, he paused and stared down at it. Flexing his fingers. That was good.... a sign of friendship. Companionship..... Do not be scared. He nodded and hesitated when he saw the woods. There were strange beings who did not like his kind who resided here but the forest had also been a place of refuge. Safety. Peace, even when he had none. Still.... "Over a year ago, my life was normal... I was the leader of my clan and would lead raids, took slaves and sacrificed captives to the dark gods," He said, shame in his voice and lowered his head. Both feeling shame for his actions and for the shame itself. These things were normal for his kind. "I was with Clawash, my mate, she," He smiled with love, affection and respect. "She is ferocious. We were talking about what camps to raid during the summer. The Dread Master was sending out his emissaries to bring all the clans under his command." He said, at this he growled and continued. "Clawash said, "Keep your faluke worduk avo yourukelf, flagit beaumn. Kulknej ayh noav kneeleruk. Tell your maukavas kulknej nauk-jecav naj-ri uavaverpak!" Again, he smiled at the memory with love and pride, and then the reminder of what was lost. Then remembered there was a chance he would not be understood. "Essentially, stop lying me down believe you. Our clan does not obey and we want nothing to do with him. And, some other, less than polite things....." He smiled, or tried to but instead the smile made it look like more of a sneer. "We rested and then I had a strange dream. That dream changed everything for me." * Keep your false words to yourself, foul being. We are not kneelers. Tell your Master we reject him utterly. I will decorate my house with your spine, castrate you and slaughter your family.
  9. They materialized in a space that bordered on familiar, probably due to Tristan mentioning that it was designed to be close to the original so no one got lost if they could help it. Delara and Icarus were barely a moment behind them. Home but not. Apollo felt welcoming, felt the same over his skin. But of course it recognized him, Kassander would have held onto the hope that he would return one day. Sandalio numbly, and probably would have done just that without thinking anything of it if it weren't for the fact that Hasan chose that precise moment to appear, and then he hissed at the ceiling and it was clear that something was very wrong. Sandalio started to take a step forward, and then the scent of blood hit him, and something inside of him shifted. Nope. Nope. That was a very, very bad idea. Logic was strong enough to drive him to take a step backwards instead of allowing instinct to drive him forward. If he'd been younger than he was, this could have been a disaster. Some small corner of his mind was just going to be thankful that he wasn't younger and so this didn't turn out nearly as badly as it might've. He was uh, going to stay back here for a second while he got his thoughts together enough to ask about where the bloodwine was stored though. He'd find his words again sooner or later. Delara, of course, closed the space between herself and Hasan rather quickly, frowning as she did so. It was only a second or two before she started glowing, working on piecing back together the serious damaged wing. "I'm almost afraid to ask what's happening exactly." And yet, by saying that, Delara knew full well she was opening the door to get an answer. At least Apollo could probably hold off whoever it was. The security system didn't play and someone had to be a little more than determined in order to get in and be a real problem. Just as long as everyone stayed inside and let it do its job.
  10. Okay that was a particularly violent reaction and Daren wasn't entirely sure how to process it entirely. He did, however, immediately drop the glamour so that he was himself again. Clearly whoever that was ... was not someone the Light could stand to see. And that was, by the way, kind of a terrifying thought because what in the world could push the Light into a reaction like that? Then again, like all of them, he seemed to have lived a normal human life at some point - perhaps a long time ago, but still relatively normal. It left a number of questions as to what the 'Marcus' had done. Maybe Daren didn't want to know honestly. But that did confirm the thought that apparently he hadn't ascended this Hamadaeva except that that shouldn't be possible. There wasn't supposed to be another way to become a Daeva, after all it was a position that was earned, not born into. "I'm sorry." Apologetic, but not sure what to do because he wasn't sure if he could help and maybe trying would only make it worse. It was only what he'd been asked to do, but still he was sorry because clearly there was a lot of untapped trouble there. Azrael was "Marcus". Unfortunately it was one of those answers that immediately opened up a number of new questions. Why did this Marcus feel like the light, especially if the Light clearly was afraid of him? How had he been ascended without the light's knowledge? How was this guy who the light feared able to hide from him so completely? Daren found himself wishing that Samael was still here though, he would know what to do best for the other man to help calm him down. The Daeva didn't really want to leave him alone like this, but he was also concerned that his presence was only going to make things worse.
  11. Kit

    A Druid and an Orc

    Maddox chuckled after the farmer's remark and glanced up at his new friend. The aberration to the natural order. The anomaly that aroused his curiosity. The chaotic element that now stood with his hand bashfully over his mouth and made pleasant small talk in a field owned by farmers that wanted to kill him. Maddox reached up and curled his hand around Ghâsh-ash's hand, dragging it down and manipulating it so that they shook hands. Once and then twice. Maddox released Ghâsh-ash's hand. It felt thick and calloused, unfamiliar. It occurred to him that he had never touched an orc before, except in violence. "I am Maddox of the Circle of Spores. Come we should leave before they force us to be violent." Maddox stepped away and started walking towards the woods. A place of darkness, rebirth and secrets. "Tell me your story."
  12. I always mess up this URL and what's funny is it's not even hard. Rofl

    1. Show previous comments  1 more
    2. Sionyx


      Eventually I remember how to type it. (My browser's set to remove history and delete site cache and cookies on browser close, so I can't rely on my browser to remember it.)

    3. Kit


      I can't possibly rely on my memory like that! Hats off

    4. Sionyx


      Lol, but I can eventually remember a site URL, but not to eat. xD

  13. It wasn't like Daren had done anything Kassander didn't ask him to. Yet, strangely, or not, if you knew anything about his history with the particular being Daren glamoured into, he had a sudden urge to blast him into the wall, and his muscles noticeably tightened with that instinct. Kassander fought it down. The good news, if there was to be good news here, was Kassander didn't have the energy to, not now. "Marcus," leaked out of him in a whisper, like someone hadn't twisted the cap on a tube tightly enough. "I definitely did not ascend him, I would never have, he doesn't deserve whoever's wings he stole." He hadn't seen him, those cold, bright eyes, in so long, he'd forgotten what they looked like. He used to see them a lot, in his nightmares, when he was younger and still woke up screaming a lot. It was always the look in his eyes, the hard, piercing glint, the lack of any compassion or remote flicker of remorse for anything he'd ever done, that Kassander remembered, but for a few decades, it seemed he'd finally gotten free of it. Daren didn't quite replicate the vicious shimmer in them. Marcus had then, and seemingly still had, if this conversation was anything to go by, a very unhealthy obsession with him, and Kassander couldn't figure out if that was because Marcus had never accepted Kassander as his better, or had never accepted Kassander wasn't his. In the end, maybe the answer was both. Marcus was primitive enough a creature to fall into base instinct that way. It was then, somewhere amid realising that he wasn't really breathing, or focusing on anything, that his breath quickened, and he shoved himself back against the window and curled up right there, focusing on controlling the little bursts of air. Well, he tried, anyway. Controlling your breathing when you were fast slipping into panic mode was harder than it sounded. If he didn't get his muscles to relax, and his breathing to even out, he was either going to pull a muscle, pass out, or both, and neither sounded terribly dignified.
  14. That didn't turn out so well. Mind you, Hasan knew the risks when he made the executive decision to go up there. For one thing, he wanted to make sure it actually was Marcus; he trusted Kassander enough to believe it, and he saw the way the Roman reacted. Only Marcus could've elicited such a response. Maybe he just felt the need to see it with his own eyes. If nothing else, with any luck, Marcus wouldn't recognize him (oh, but Hasan would recognize him), and he could get some idea of what his plans were. Why go through all this trouble to make himself Hamadaeva? Surely he couldn't still hold a grudge against Kassander for being prettier and smarter than he was. That was a difficult thing to fathom, so Hasan had to assume this went beyond Kassander and was bigger than their petty little one-up war from back at Rome. Unfortunately, he hadn't managed to gain much in the way of intel before Gabriel was throwing fireballs at him. The French ginger was dangerous, but it had less to do with her skill and ability as it had to do with her unpredictability. In battle, one's opponent quite often had plans. They made logical decisions, and often very similar logical decisions to the ones someone else with some understanding of combat and how it worked would, but Gabriel was another story. No one had ever really taught her proper combat form, and while she wasn't exactly incapable of fighting, the truth was battle was inherently chaotic, and her ability to ride that chaos and sometimes turn it in her favor, coupled with her lack of instinctive reaction the same way a formally-trained combatant might react, threw even Hasan off guard, and he was hard to blindside. He slipped up only a little, and the next thing he knew, he was crashing into the ground-floor entryway in the Drago complex, hissing angrily at the ceiling, his wings unfurling in a threatening manner. Apollo clicked twice, and a crackle of Kassander's magic alighted for a second, as Apollo's canons fired at something unseen outside. How very fucking dare-wait... there was a new smell, but not a new smell, it was familiar, in the complex. Hasan paused a moment, breathing; the Sandalio hunting-party had returned, but that wasn't what he smelled- Sandalio. The relief in his expression then was probably tangible; Sandalio could figure out how to keep Kassander going until Hasan figured out how to save him. Or, even, Icarus could figure it out, and Hasan could rearrange some daeva-faces, whichever. He breathed out, smiled, and went to move that way, and stopped, loosing a pained hiss. Ah, he'd almost lost this wing, judging by the cut that went halfway up to the bone. There was a lot of blood under him. He should fix this first.
  15. ... knowing his brother, that was probably a flat refusal to deal with it at all. On the other hand, maybe it was for the best. One thing at a time, he supposed. There were plenty of things to deal with, and maybe the towering mountain on the table was threatening to break the wood just fine enough already. Tristan didn't respond verbally, just nodded once. It was long past time they rejoined the Drago, anyway, it was just fortunate they had found who they were looking for and could return triumphantly, and it made perfect sense that was what Sandalio would want at this point. Home sounded like a good idea. He didn't bother warning him, either; it was unlikely that he needed to. The shift in energy was generally enough to figure out what he was doing from. It was a short event, one moment they were standing around the remains of the nightmare cage, and the next, Apollo was softly beeping its hellos. "The layout's about the same," he said. "Very similar at least. Kassander didn't want anyone getting too lost." Getting lost in your own home, technically, was really kind of not great. "And you can ask Apollo where he is, if you want to go there first. ... doesn't seem like Hasan's here." He couldn't sense him, no. Hasan was doing most things around the Drago, now that most of them were looking for Sandalio, and Kassander was only able to manage so much before he needed to rest. Now that they were back, Tristan at least was going to go figure out the current state of things and start helping again. Hasan probably could use the assist by now.
  16. Friend? He did not realise that he had been bleeding. His hand reached up and touched his bottom lip, looked at the dark coloured blood and rubbed it between his fingertips. The sight of blood was strange now. How much had he spilled in the past? Deep down he felt like a fool. He had been driven from his clan, loss his station, and now even petty little farmers required him to be defended by a stranger. It is the right thing to do. "Yeah, yeah, yeah...." They grumbled, frowned but the magic had caused them enough concern to slowly back away. Muttering curses and threats under their breath of what would happen if they returned. All empty threats. Finally, the last of the farmers turned around to leave to go back to their huts with a distinctive. "Ya know, I could have taken them." Said by one of them during the retreat. The orc felt ashamed. Do not feel shame. Thank him. "Thank you, I.. appreciate what you have done for me," He said honestly. Fanged teeth bared in an attempt at a smile and when he realised what he did. He stopped, closed his lips and half covered his mouth with his hand. Ask him his name. Introduce yourself. "What is your name? I am Ghâsh-ash of the Bloodlord clan." He answered, although.. he had been stripped of his clan but old habits died hard.
  17. Well that went spectacularly. And then he was alone with the Light. Some small part of him may have been frantic at that idea, before. But He'd already heard the Light's stance on his (not) being fallen and really weren't they all alone with the Light sometimes? Maybe not in quite such a ... disturbingly literal sense. Anyway, perhaps now was not the best time to begin debating that point - even just in his own mind. Maybe Icarus could finish the second Apollo, but the aforementioned Icarus was busy. Well that was... unfortunate in the sense that it would be best if it was something they could manage to resolve. But on the other hand other tasks may be just as important. Neither of these things helped the fact that the Light was dying or the fact that there was no Daeva currently prepared to move the cycle of life and death the way it clearly needed to be supported. "Oh, uh. That's a good idea." It was and Daren wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of it himself except for the fact that his mind had been caught on other things. There was a lot to digest from this short meeting and not a lot of time because the Light was exhausted and Hasan was... well. Trying to be both a husband and get to the bottom of what was going on. It was admirable, really. Daren took a slow breath and concentrated on forming the glamour. It didn't take long for his features to shift into another form. Glamour came naturally to the Daevas, after all. Hopefully this would help shed some light on that part at least. Knowing who Azrael was would help Hasan and answer a lot of questions all at the same time, probably. "Here." After a moment or so, once he was confident he'd gotten everything completely right.
  18. ... Wait where? It didn't matter, he could trust Tristan to take him there. His brother wouldn't lead him astray on purpose so if he said that was where home was now then he'd just have to believe that, even if Sandalio didn't understand where or why they had moved exactly. The Drago was no longer in its homeland, and Sandalio couldn't help but feel like that wasn't a good thing. That there was something ominous about the fact that the whole group had uprooted and gone to some place in the new world. Especially after that particular bomb was dropped. So they'd left Italy and now Kassander was dying. Well clearly the Drago shouldn't have gone to the New World since it hold anything positive for them there. There was also a corner of the former gladiator that rebelled against the idea of Kass dying so far from his homeland - as long as they had lived, and as long as they had lived in Italy he should be laid to rest there, if he had to be laid to rest at all. His mind continued to swirl, railing against what he was processing, railing against what he'd been told. This was too much. This was too much. Being broken out of the nightmare cage only to find that the reality he was coming back to was actually worse in many ways was - Sandalio didn't think he could handle it. And yet, he didn't have a choice. That was just the way things were, Sandalio would have to figure out how to bear the unbearable because it was reality. Tristan wouldn't lie to him, not about something that important. And if Tristan wouldn't lie then... he had to accept that what he was hearing was the truth, even if he didn't want to believe it under any circumstances. Twenty years, and Kassander was dying. Kassander was dying and Ryan had nearly gotten himself killed. Somehow reality managed to feel worse than twenty years in a nightmare cage. The god of shadows wasn't sure how that was possible, and frankly he didn't want to dwell on it for very long. "...Wanna go home." Yeah, he did. That probably wasn't surprising all things considered.
  19. Gothic


    Lily and Iggles snuggling on the couch.
  20. Kit

    A Druid and an Orc

    A green potato flung itself through the air, trailing clods of wet earth behind it like a rapidly unraveling banner. It hit the farmer who had pushed the orc on the chest. Maddox peered around the orc, his hands had automatically snapped out to catch the orc. He had one brow raised, expression ripe with one question for the farmer. Was that really necessary? With a bit of effort, Maddox invited the other vegetables back into the earth to slumber, grow and fatten with the earth's goodness. They slunk back into the earth to do what they were told, returning to their natural state. Now he had this aberration literally in his hands. Maddox looked up at the orc, and recognised a softer emotion in the orc's mauled features. The eyes that did not look back at him with pride won by so many battles and death wrought upon the living. He wondered if the averted gaze hid conflict between nature and whatever it was that had altered the orc in this way. Making him into something so wildly unfamiliar to Maddox. "Come now friend. You are foolish to approach these farmers and expect peace." The corners of Maddox's mouth tightened in the suggestion of humour. He pointed at the orc's cut lip. "Dab that. You lot," Maddox lowered his hands and dodged around the orc so that he now faced the farmers. "Go back to your farms. Your potatoes will grow still."
  21. Gothic

    Creep City

    Paige shrugged. She couldn't remember which one it was and wondered whether someone would end up making robots who would be able to do the work that nobody wanted to do. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea," She murmured, patted the puppies and watched as it was placed on the ground. Hopefully no-one would buy it while they walked off to purchase the necessary items. They had talked a little about their respective pasts. Paige missed her family. She heard early on that they had died. Having relied on memory for their face she could barely make them out now. Would she even recognise them? Would they recognise her? The chaos of the new world had brought out a resilience in her. Would they miss her? Were they even still alive? She giggled and playfully nudged Jo in return. "Well, we are pretty damn cute," Paige answered with a dramatic sigh and pretended to fan herself with her hand. "You and your jerky need to get a room!" Paige stuck her tongue out, she peeked through the laneways of the mini shops of people selling stuff and could not find anything. Food, water, ammo, maybe some bandages. "Alrighties, let's go, I would love to have some coffee.... oooo and chocolate," She moaned at the thought of eating chocolate. Little treats were now like mana from heaven. The pair of them walked towards the nearest shop keep and looked at the items. Couple of old books, some ornaments, blankets, and otherwise nothing in particular. In the distance they could hear people yelling and a fight beginning to break out.
  22. The voice caused him to stare openly. It was so calm. The crowd all seemed surprised by the antics of the stranger, it was not common to see an orc -- and it was even less common to see someone defend an orc. D-did the potatoes come out of the ground? Magic, it was not uncommon for the orcs, although he had a wariness towards magic users due to causing pain the past. His eyes narrowed with mistrust, defensiveness, hostility. No... this is not you.... be kind.... "I.. I will go with you," He said. Orcs had their own hierarchy among themselves. Defeat and captives were never treated well. Their warrior culture was a way that protected them, brought pride and honour to them. Yet.. it was twisted... corrupted. Whispers of spoils of war. He stepped forward before being shoved roughly. His hands rested on Maddox's shoulders and chest. If he could have blushed, he would have, and his eyes were cast downwards and bit his own bottom lip so hard that it had begun to bleed. He could have ripped their fucking heads off. Easily. No, this is not you anymore. Walk away. Go with the stranger..... To be helpless as an orc was shameful. Disgrace. Dishonour. He still could not bear to look at him.
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